Pleasing Father
by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: It takes a lot to please Lucius Malfoy. Does Draco have what it takes? Does he need to?


_**A/N: Written for The Houses Competition forum run by MoonlightForgotten.**_

 _ **Theme: Family**_

 _ **Prompt: A huge disappointment  
**_

 _ **Word Count: 838 words**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

Draco had carried the Malfoy name on his shoulders heavily for twenty years. Even from birth, something was expected of him. Of course, there was no way for Draco to prove that exactly, but given the memories he did have from his childhood, Draco was damn sure that his perception was true.

During his childhood, Draco was required to be the perfect child. The child that could speak eloquently, could dance impeccably, and could act accordingly. If Draco were to step a toe out of line, he would be punished the 'Malfoy' way. His personal house elves were the only ones that knew the secrets behind the glamour charms they provided for him.

Acting like a pureblood also had ideals that Draco was forced to believe. Mudbloods, blood traitors, half bloods, and muggles were all scum and beneath their feet. Over the years, the Malfoy motto had remained in Draco's mind, and he actually believed that it was right.

"Stop your sniveling, boy," Lucius snapped coldly at Draco. He was complaining about getting the second best marks in the year under a mudblood. "Such actions are not accepted into this world, and you'll see to it that you stop." The death grip around Lucius's cane was evident. "Or reprimanding will be in order."

Draco bowed his head and excused himself, "Yes, Father." Draco walked away with disappointment from his father, yet again.

In school, Draco made a practice of his training to be the perfect Malfoy son against his inferiors and peers. He was known as the Slytherin Prince to most or simply an arrogant, pompous bully to others. It wasn't something Draco had a choice in; he was a coward that only wanted to please his father.

The gears began to shift during the Second Wizarding War. Draco stood in the foyer of the manor, watching as his aunt tortured one of his former rivals. More importantly, Draco was looking at the blood that had spilled from Granger's arm; it looked exactly like his own. There was no dirty clumps of mud within the crimson contents of her blood, so the things he believed to be true were lies.

Draco maintained his composure, but internally the denial was fighting with the truth presented in front of him. Closing his hand around his wand tightly, he shouted out a spell that brought the perfect distraction and escape for the people he once thought were the enemy. That was something Draco knew wouldn't please his father.

* * *

It had been months since the incident in the manor. Draco had defected to the DA's side and helped with the fall of Lord Voldemort. He was not accepted with open arms, as expected. However, Draco didn't care; the weight of having to prove himself to his father was gone. Draco was no longer a coward; he had grown into his own man simply because of someone who wasn't aware of it.

Draco's current destination was one of the cells in Azkaban. The dark, eerie place still brought chills down people's backs as they entered the place despite the dementors being gone. Shrugging the feeling off, Draco stopped in front of a cell that held a shell of a man.

"Father," Draco said simply. He stared at the grisly form of matted hair clinging to Lucius' neck. His eyes trailed to the skinny physique that was only alive by the poor rations provided for the prisoners. "I see you're doing well."

Lucius snarled as much as he could regardless of the weakness in his movements, "You're no son of mine," he wheezed out, "You're a disgrace to the Malfoy name."

Draco adjusted the cuffs on his shirt, "Consider, if you will, the fact that with you as the head Malfoy, we were in the papers as disgusting superiors. Whereas with me as the head, we're depicted as a family striving to pull ourselves out of the ashes from _your_ mistakes. Given the evidence, I believe _you_ are the disgrace, Father."

"Why you little-"

"I didn't show up for a sentimental reunion. In fact, I've come to say goodbye. Mother won't be returning to see you anymore; and I will never be coming back after this visit," Draco interjected, "She's very disappointed in you. You'd rather rot here than see the truth; even if it were to save your own bum."

Lucius stayed quiet, seething in his cell at his son who had been disowned in his eyes.

"' _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper'_ my arse," Draco declared with a huff, "and goodbye." He turned on his heel and left the appalled former patriarch in his wake.

Draco proved to his father, as well as everyone else, that he was a Malfoy. On the other hand, that wasn't the Malfoy he wanted to be. Draco then proved that he could grow from the ideals and disappointment his father engraved into his skull.

At least Lucius _thought_ he had done that. It was engraved in Draco's skull that it was his father that was the real disappointment.


End file.
